Paying the Ferryman
by Ingram
Summary: In the aftermath of Fang's killing, Elisa and Talon try and figure it how it happened, while 47 finds out that things are not what they seem with his handler...
1. Madmans end

"_Murderer's aren't monsters, they're men. And that's the most frightening thing about them." –_Alice Sebold

_Brooklyn Waterfront, New York City-_

Inside one of a dozens of half abandoned warehouses that dotted the waterfront of the

decaying Brooklyn shoreline, a madman was at work;

Doctor Anton Sevarius carefully poured the contents of two small test tubes into a glass beaker, then smiled as he noted their reaction.

"Excellent…" he said to himself, before sliding his chair across to a desk with a laptop sitting on it. Sevarius flipped it open and began to enter his observations from the experiment into a text file, after using a small remote control to turn on a CD player.

As the strains of Wagner's _Rienzi _filled the room, Sevarius began to talk aloud as he typed,

"As I previously suspected, the chemical compounds of CC-117 and ADG-2148 proved to be quite toxic when mixed, making the weapons applications of this chemical nearly limitless…"

Sevarius paused for a moment,

"…and the fact that both of these chemical are readily available, would make this weapon particularly valuable to certain..." Sevarius chuckled darkly, "…interested parties. It's quite possible that…"

The doctors neck erupted in pain when the garrote bit into it.

He quickly tried to grab unto the wire and pull it away from his throat, but it was firmly held in place by its wielder. Servarius tried to call out for help, but all that came out of his throat was a wet gahk he tried to flail his legs, tried to get away, tried anything he could think of, but the killer held firm. Finally, his struggle ended, and Sevarius went still.

The killer held the wire in place for a moment, making sure that Sevarius was dead, and then he unwound the wire from around the good doctor's neck, carefully wound it around the plastic handles attached to it and but the weapon back under his black suit coat.

The killer flexed his black leather gloved hands, then after a moment's contemplation, closed the laptop on the table, tucked it under his arm, and left. As he slipped put of Sevarius' improvised laboratory, the florescent lights overhead shone down on a tattoo on the back of his completely bare head…a barcode with the number sequence 640509-040147…

In the same laboratory two days later, Anton Sevarius was being zipped into a black rubber body bag while two New York Police Department homicide detectives looked on and sipped coffee from Styrofoam cups.

"Well…think we're gonna catch this guy?"

"No."

"Just no, Anderson?"

"Yep."

"That's great…"

"Well, ell-tee, what do you expect me to say? Sure, as soon as we dust this place for prints we're not gonna find, then have forensics sweep it for fibers or whatever, and they come up with nothing, I'm sure by some miracle whoever did this is going to show up at the precinct and confess? Ell-tee, however did this was a professional, and we aren't gonna have squat in the way of leads. Let's just stop wastin' our time now and try and catch some bad guys we have a hope in hell of finding."

"You never know sergeant, we might get lucky."

"Yeah, well don't hold your breath."

Across town, in an abandoned subway station, the assassin known only as "47" was sitting on a splintery wooden table and inserting a data chip into a small fold open PDA.

He had been in New York to cut one of the final leads to Ortmeir's clone operation; Anton Sevarius. The doctor's advice to Ortmeir on the cloning process that had created the super assassin had been essential but it had been kept secret; 47 had only found out about recently, and had decided that since he was in New York anyway, it wouldn't hurt to tie up a possible loose end. Finding Sevarius had been easy, killing him even more so, and now it was back to business.

"47, we have a bit of a challenge for you…" Diana's smooth upper class english voice purred from the PDA's speakers, "The target is a local multi billionaire, one David Xanatos…"

47 listened as Dianna continued on, flipping through the attached floor plans of Xanatos' residence as he did so. This was going to be quite a challenge…not that it mattered. Once 47 had been paid for a contract, nothing could stop him. Nothing.

End of chapter 1…more too come, depending on your reactions to this short bit I've written here.


	2. Uninvited guest with a W2000

I don't own Disney and I don't own Eidos or IGN, therefore I am using the characters from Gargoyles and Hitman without permission

Oh, this is set in more in the Hitman timeline, so these events are occurring about early 2003-4. I've made some assumptions about the gargoyle universe at this point, so…yeah.

_Manhattan Island, New York_

Elisa hated this elevator. She'd taken it dozens, hundreds of times since she'd moved into the Eyrie but she still despised it. The elevator itself was nice enough; spacious, the ride was smooth, and it didn't have the smell of tightly packed humanity that most other elevators she'd been in this city seemed to have acquired. But it was so infernally _long_.

Finally, the elevator slid to a stop and she steeped out to find Owen Burnet standing in the castles plush lobby;

"Ah detective Maza, how are we this evening?"

"Fine Owen. Long day at work…"

"Would you like me to prepare you something? A drink perhaps?"

Elisa rolled her eyes; this was the other thing that still annoyed her about living in this building. Owen insisted on acting like she was _her_ personal servant as well as Xanatos', no matter how many times she'd informed him she really, really, didn't need the help.

"No Owen. I'm fine." she said trying not to show her annoyance.

"Very well…Mr. Xanatos was going to be in the courtyard to greet the clan upon their awakening. Would you care to join him?"

Elisa sighed, wishing she could have met the clan on her own. Oh well; it _was_ technically Xanatos' castle anyway.

"Why not?" she said, and turned to walk to the suite of rooms Xanatos had given her and Goliath after she'd moved into the castle.

Owen watched her go, and then headed down a different corridor, to speak with his employer.

Inside the elevator, all was silent. Until the small roof hatch gently lowered from the ceiling, and a dark figure stealthily leaped down into the elevators interior.

47 pulled a PDA from under his suit jacket and reviewed the blueprints Diana had sent him with his mission briefing. The assassin carefully picked out a spot that would offer the best vantage point of the courtyard, memorized the best route to it from the Keep, and then slipped out of the elevator and into the interior of Castle Wyvern.

In another part of the castle David Xanatos was in his office finishing the last bit of paperwork for the day, and looking forward to watching the clan break out of stone slumber, when Owen walked in.

"Anything to report Owen?" he cheerfully asked his assistant.

"Nothing too serious Mr. Xanatos…they were having some problems in the security office earlier. It would seem that a few of the security systems in the lower castle went out for a few moments, and have been acting up ever since."

Xanatos raised an eyebrow,

"Did they find a cause?"

"Not yet, Mr. Xanatos…"  
"Hmmm…any trouble with the systems up here?"

"No Mr. Xanatos."

"Oh well. Schedule a full shakedown of the buildings security systems as soon as possible."

"Already done Mr. Xanatos."

"Excellent. Now if there's nothing else…"

47 crept to the crenellations surrounding the turret of the enormous tower he had selected as his firing position, then knelt behind and arrow loop and opened the black attaché case he had with him. Lugging the thing around with him while he infiltrated Wyvern had been an interesting experience, but it was proving to be worth it. There was no way he could have made this shot with just his Silverballer's.

The assassin began to deftly assemble the weapon that was concealed in the small briefcase; a light weight stock; a customized barrel; a night vision 20x scope; a long, thick silencer, and finally a magazine of armor piercing bullets, which he inserted into the

magazine well just behind the weapons wooden grips.

47 checked his PDA one last time, making sure that his target was coming from the right direction, and then took up position just under a massive gargoyle statue…

Xanatos emerged into the courtyard squinting slightly as the a few waning rays of sunlight struck him. After his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw a familiar denim and red leather clad figure waiting for him.

"Ah, Detective Maza, so good to see you…"

"Wish I could say the same Xanatos."

The billionaire chuckled slightly,

"Come on Maza, it's been five years since I 'reformed'. Can't I get some consideration for good behavior?"

47 watched the byplay between the two once-enemies with disinterest, and he began to carefully dial in the rifles scope for the range to the courtyard. He paused briefly, as it seemed that both his target and the police woman focused in on his exact position…then he saw that they seemed focused on something just above him. 47 wrapped his finger around the trigger, and began to slowly breathe in and out as the sun slipped below the horizon…

"I always look forward to this, no matter how many times I've seen it…" Xanatos whispered, as the tower slipped into darkness,

47 began to take up second pressure on the trigger, staring down the sight straight into Xanatos' eyes. He was milliseconds away from making the kill.

Then he heard a loud, continuous cracking sound erupt above him.

Goliath awoke with a mighty roar and a rain of broken stone skin. He stretched his massive arms and looked down to see that his clan was wakening in one piece, then waved down at Elisa in the court yard. The he heard a metallic clattering from just below his feet…

47 dropped the Walther to the stone floor of the tower as he fell flat on his rear in awe of the creature that suddenly towered above him. He hastily pulled himself to his feet and began to back peddle as fast he could.

Goliath stared in surprise at the black suited human who had been underneath him, then looked at the bizarre rifle that was now laying on the ground below him, then got a good look at the deeply set pale blue eyes of the would-be sniper, and suddenly he knew he was facing an enemy to be reckoned with.

"What business do you have here?!?" Goliath demanded, as he leapt of his perch and began to storm across the turret towards 47.

The hitman decided to forego the stairs, and without a word turned and leapt over a crenellation and down unto the lower turret. Unfortunately this brought him face to face with Hudson, and more to the point, with Hudson's sword.

"And who might ye be then?" the old soldier growled, as he held the point of his blade at the bald assassins neck.

47 raised a disdainful eyebrow, and then jumped backwards, feeling the sword crease his neck as he did so. Hudson was surprised for a moment by the human's incredible speed, but quickly recovered and tried to bring his sword across the stranger's throat. All he succeeded in doing was slicing off the collars of 46's starched white shirt and the midsection of his blood red tie. Before Hudson could lunge forward, 47 turned, ducked a hasty grab from Broadway, and then ran into the portal to the towers stairwell.

"After him!" Goliath shouted from above,

"Come on!" Broadway shouted, as he ran down the stairway after 47, with Lexington close behind.

"Lass, yuir with me!!" Hudson shouted, as he motioned for Angela to follow him before leaping off the tower and gliding to the ground. Elisa and Xanatos ran over to the two gargoyles as they landed,

"What's going on?" Elisa asked, as she reached under her jacket for her pistol.

"Assassin, as far as I kin tell…" Hudson explained, as he made his way into the castle,

"After who?"

"Judgin' by his position…I'd have ta' say one 'a you two."

Elisa and Xanatos stopped and looked at each other.

Xanatos shook his head;

"I'm going for my armor. _No one_ threatens me in my own home."

Hudson glanced back at him,

"Oh indeed?" he quipped

"Well, not since you and yours ceased your…wanton suspicions of my actions."

Hudson shook his head,

"Aye, I'll keep tha' in mind. Now if your away to fetch yuir fancy armor, stay on the lookout; this lad is bloody fast."

Xanatos waved and ran off in the direction of the castles hangers, While Elisa motioned for Angela,

"We should go keep an eye on the elevators."

"Okay Elisa." Angela agreed and the two ran off towards the castles elevator.

Hudson found himself momentarily alone, but Bronx came running to the old gargoyles side.  
"Aye, well, not too eager there boy." Hudson told the gargoyles beast, "I've a bad feelin' about this…"

47 made a right down another one of this castles seemingly endless supply of grim-looking corridors, and drew his .45 caliber Silverballer's out from under his jacket.

He was unsure what these creatures were, but it was time to see of they were bulletproof.

The first one charged around the corner behind him, a paunchy light green skinned creature with batwing-like ears. _Always good to presented with such massive targets_ the assassin thought, as he quickly brought his pistol up and squeezed off a quick burst.

Lexington was close enough to Broadway to see the bullets slam into his clan brother's gut and chest. Broadway bellowed and fell to the floor, doubling up in pain as he did so.

"Broadway!" Lex shouted, as he ran to the larger gargoyles side. The web-wing glanced down the corridor and saw the black suited killer ducking around a corner down the hall.

"How bad is it?" Lexington asked his stricken comrade,

"Hurts like hell…don't think he it anything that important…"

"That's…good. I guess."

Broadway bit down on another scream as he clutched his wounds shut,

"You should…keep after him…"

"Lexington shook his head,

"No, way." Lexington look up to see if the shooter was returning, "There's no way I can leave you like this."

47 slowed to a stop again and ducked into a side room off the corridor he'd ran down,

then checked his PDA for to get his bearings. As he flipped through the floor plans stored in the small device, his ear pierce began to transmit;

"47, Diana here…"

"Ah, I was just about to call and thank your intelligence staff for mentioning the band of _giant winged monsters_ that almost killed me!" the assassin snarled, displaying a rare moment of anger.

"47, the Agency had no clue that…"

"Copy that Diana." 47 cut his handler off, "This castle is now on full alert. its only a matter of time before the more…_conventional_ security systems are fully operational. I'm scrubbing this mission now, before it's too late."

There was a long pause on the other end of the conversation,

"Agreed 47. Get out of there, Agency will continue to provide satellite surveillance for as long as possible."

"I appreciate it."

"It's nothing personal 47; we don't want to lose our star asset on a botched mission of our own making."

47 raised an eyebrow, turned off his transmitter, and then cautiously opened the door back into the hallway.

The assassin was greeted by a frantic deluge of barking and snarling as a blue skinned beast tore down the hallway towards him, with the bearded, sword-wielding creature right behind it. The assassin quickly slammed the door shut, threw the bolt shut, and quickly looked around the room for an alternate escape route. There. Behind a set of French doors, there was a small balcony. 47 dashed across the room, kicked open the flimsy doors, and looked around. There was another balcony next to this one, and it was right next to a large drain pipe that snaked its way down to the courtyard below the keep.

Excellent.

Bronx paused in front of a door half way down the hallway and began to frantically scratch at it,  
"Have ye got him boy?" Hudson said, as he ran up to the watch-beats position. The old soldier tried the door; locked. He stood back, drew his sword and effortlessly kicked the heavy wood portal in with a single blow. Bronx immediately dashed inside, nearly bowling Hudson over as he did so. The beast sniffed the air in the room, then dashed to the balcony and began his barking frenzy anew. Hudson ran outside himself, and looked down to get a final glimpse of 47 as the killer darted into the main hall.

"Blast it!" he shouted, as he leapt off the balcony and glided down to the courtyard.

Bronx watched him go, whimpered once, and then began to cautiously scale down the side of the building, digging his claws into the stone as he went.

Down below, Hudson cautiously surveyed the main hall, checking for any sign of ambush. he was about to enter when Goliath landed heavily at his side.

"Broadway has been shot…" he rumbled, as he followed Hudson inside, both of them ready for anything.

"I know, lad. How's he doin'?

"As well as he can." Goliaths scowled, "We need to end this before someone else is harmed."

"Agreed lad."

When no bullets whizzed at them from the shadows, the two gargoyles moved into the next room…and found Angela sprawled on the ground in front of the elevators.

"Angela!" Goliath shouted, as he ran to his daughters side, "Angela what…" too the clan leaders infinite gratitude, the lavender beauties eyes fluttered open at the sound of her father voice.

"Drugged…" Angela groggily whispered, motioning towards a heavy surgical steel syringe that lay on the ground nearby, "Came…from behind…" her voice trailed off and she lapsed back into slumber. Goliath shook her awake again,

"Angela please, where is Elisa?"

Suddenly the quite was shattered by seven rapid pistol shots, followed by a barrage of silenced gunfire that was barely audible even to a gargoyles sensitive ears.

"Elisa!"

Goliath shot to his feet and ran towards the sound of gunfire.

Elisa ducked behind one of the bits of machinery that dotted the floor of Xanatos main hanger and cursed as bullets sparked off it. She cursed even more when she felt one of the whit-hit bullets art the op of her hair.

Whoever this bastard was, he had a pair of full auto .45's and he knew how to use them.

Elisa held her Glock up over the top of whatever it was she was hiding behind, and fired off a few quick rounds, and then her pistol locked open on an empty chamber.

Cursing even more, she dropped the magazine and started to reload. That was when she spotted the warning label on the side of machine;

_Danger, Highly Flammable contents_.

"Oh shit." She murmured, then leapt away just as the gunman's next burst found the machine sweet spot and triggered a massive explosion. Elisa went flying through the air and landed heavily on the concrete floor of the hanger.

She lay stunned for a moment, then came crashing back to reality as she saw the black suited killer coming walking out of the flames like something from a nightmare.

Outside the hanger, Xanatos spotted the explosion and quickly steered his armored suit towards it.

"Alert everyone that there been an explosion in the hanger." he told Owen vis his suits radio,

"Yes, Mr. Xanatos. Should I activate the fire suppression systems?"

"Not quite yet Owen. My sensors can easily penetrate the smoke and fire, but I doubt the killer is so well equipped."

"Alright, Mr. Xanatos. But I'll trigger them the moment it looks as if the fire might spread."

"Good man." Xanatos kicked in his after burners and roared inside the hanger.

He quickly spotted Elisa, and then he spotted what had to be the assassin looming over her with a gleaming pistol in either hand. Xanatos quickly flipped out one of his wrist laser cannons and fired off several warning shots over the killers bald head,

"Drop 'em." he commanded.

47 locked his icy blue eyes with the machines glowing red photoreceptors for a moment, then nimbly dodged to one side, dropping one of his Silverballer's as he did so.

He pulled on of his remote mines out of his jacket when he reached a new position, then dodged again as the machine sent a volley of laser fire at him. 47 crouched under another blast, tossed the mine at the machine armored flank, heard it lock unto its side with a loud thunk, and then triggered the detonator he'd palmed when he grabbed the mine.

Xanatos suddenly found himself propelled across the room with a searing pain in his side.

The armor suited billionaire quickly came to a halt, however, when he crashed into one of his own helicopters. _System failure, system failure_ flashed on the internal display in Xanatos' helmet, and then the power in his suit died.

47 turned his attention back to the woman he'd been closing in on earlier, but found that she wasn't there. The assassin immediately dove for cover, but when he saw the woman gun still laying where she had dropped it, he cautiously stood back up. When no sudden attacks materialized, he turned and ran to one of the vertical takeoff and landing jets that were parked in the hanger and scrambled into the cockpit.

Goliath and Hudson burst into the hanger just in time to see one of Xanatos' jets spring into the air and swing its rather extensive arsenal at the hanger's steel doors. Goliath tried to run at the fighter, but Hudson grabbed his shoulder and shouted,

"Nay lad, 'tis too dangerous!"

Before Goliath could protest, the jet launched too missiles at the doors, ripping open a huge, jagged hole. The VTOL's jets then swung forward and it shot out of the hanger.

Goliath quickly shrugged off Hudson's arm and ran inside,

"Elisa, are you in here?!?"

"Over here, big guy."

Goliath found Elisa in the remains of a smashed Helicopter trying to pry the helmet off of Xanatos' power suit.

"I think the power is off in this thing…" Elisa explained.

Despite himself, Goliath smiled slightly,

"I think I can help." He said, before placing his hand on the helmet and wrenching it off.

Xanatos took in along gasp of air,

"My thanks, Goliath." Xanatos nonchalantly commented, doing his best to ignore the wringing in his ears from the sound of rending steel.

"Anytime."

"So did that killer escape?"

"So it would seem."

"Wonderful."

47 landed the jet in a corner of Central park that looked relatively deserted, than hopped out and quickly took off running. He didn't slow down until he reached the sidewalk on Fifth Avenue. When he hit the bustling thoroughfare, 47 casually looked around, adjusted dropped the sliced remains of his tie in a trash can, and melted into the crowd.

He was just starting to hail a cab when his cell phone began to vibrate. He answered it as he climbed into the backseat of the cab that answered his hail.

"Lamplighter Hotel." he commanded, before bringing his cell to his ear, "What is it?"

"Gad to see you made it away clean , 47."

"Of course."

"Are you still interested in finishing the contract?"  
"Always. Besides, you've already paid me for it, haven't you?"

"I…yes. In any case, we're going to need time to reassess the situation, considering the new…_factors_ which came to light earlier."

"Mmhm, I'm also afraid your going to have to figure those factors into my fee."

"Naturally 47. In the meantime, we have several other contracts in New York that could do with your attention…"


	3. Death Underground

I don't own Disney and I don't own Eidos, therefore I am using the characters from Gargoyles and Hitman without permission.

Oh, this is set more in the Hitman timeline, so these events are occurring about early 2003-'04. I've made some assumptions about the gargoyle universe at this point, so…yeah.

Hey, sorry I haven't posted anything new in this series for awhile; that pesky concept of real life kept cutting down on my fun time. So, much delayed, here's my third installment; hopefully everyone still remembers the series!

_Manhattan, 1993_

It was night, and the shadows fell heavy on the half abandoned waterfront of Manhattan, where one of those innumerable dramas of the underworld was taking place, in the classic style of a standing man armed with a pistol looming over a groveling victim on his knees on one of the seediest sections of the docks.

"C'mon Glasses, you know I'd never rat on you guys!"

"Uh-huh. Sorry Ralph, but we got word form our guy in the feds. It was you who sold out Timmy and Vic."

"Than your guy was wrong man!"

"I doubt that very much, Ralph." a smooth voice growled from the shadows farther down the rotten wharf.

"Dracon! Thank god, man, you have to listen…"

The plea was cut off as the gangster suddenly drew a pistol from under his sport coat and slammed the barrel across the kneeling mans face, "Screw you, Ralph!" the mobster snarled, as he brought the pistol around and placed it against the kneeling mans now-bleeding forehead, "No one sells me out."

Dracon's finger began to squeeze the pistols trigger; and then, from the rear, the air was rent by automatic gunfire and shouted insults. "Son of a bitch!" Dracon snarled, as a bullet sliced through his suit and grazed his arm. He threw himself down behind a stack of crates, while Glasses turned his weapon on the shooters and fired as he dove for cover, "Its those fuckin' Russians from Coney!" the bespectacled mobster shouted as he caught a few of the shouted curses that could barely be made out over the roar of full auto gunfire.

Ralph, for his part did not seem overly concerned if the heavily armed shooter were Russian Mafia or Green Berets, as he took advantage of the sudden distraction and left into the polluted water of New York harbor and swam as quickly as a man with his hand tied behind his back could away from the developing gun battle and headed further down the coast.

_Ten Years later, Chase Park Plaza Hotel, Manhattan_

The world's top assassin sat one his customized Silverballer handguns on his lap and inserted a plain blue memory stick into the USB port on his laptop. After a few clicks of the mouse, he opened up his next briefing, than reclined in his chair and waited. After a moment, he typed in his access code, and than Diana's cold voice piped up from the computers speakers.

"Hello again, 47."

"Hello Diana." the assassin dryly commented, as he transferred his weapon to the desk top next to the computer. He then pulled out a left handed model of the same handgun out from under his jacket and began to break it down for cleaning. The recorded briefing kept on going as the assassin removed the automatics slide and held the barrel up to the light to see how much residue was in it

"…due to some recent revelations you've turned up, we have reviewed an offer for a contract we've had on the books for some time…"

47 stopped cleaning his pistol narrowed his eyes at the lap-top. Was it just him, or did the normally imperturbable Diana sound flustered? "…we were refusing the contract based on its rather…_fanciful_ descriptions, but due to the recent discoveries you made on the Xanatos operation, we reexamined the contract, and now regard it as being accurate."

47 raised an eyebrow as his mind flashed back to the band of winged creatures that had nearly killed him in that damned castle in the sky… "The target is mafia informant, currently taking shelter under the city in an old Cyberbiotics research facility…" The bald killer shook his head; this was going to cost the Agency dearly by the sound of things.

_The Labyrinth…_

"New arrivals!" Talon cheerfully called as the heavy steel doors of the Labyrinths main entrance swung open, admitting a small band of transients into what might possibly be the safest shelter in Manhattan, if not the world. They were promptly greeted by Maggie, and after a few startled looks and gasps, the group returned the lioness' smiles, and she began to lead the crowd towards the Labyrinths kitchen area. Talon watched them go, the turned to his older sister, who had been standing none too patiently next to him through the whole process.

"Sorry about that, sis." Talon apologized, "I like to be here to greet newcomers, so they can get used to…well, you know." Talon extended his wings a bit.

'_Over a decade later',_ Elisa thought, '_And it still shames him. I should have shot Xanatos when I had the chance'._ Elisa knew that killing the billionaire who had so wronged her brother would have had very negative effect on the future of her dearest friends, but…still.

"Its alright Derek." she said, smiling.

"So what's eating you?"

Elisa shook her head,

"Remember how that assassin who attacked Xanatos left behind so much hardware?"

Talon nodded; as he recalled, the list included a sniper's rifle, a handgun, and some kind of uniquely designed syringe. "Well, somehow, after all that stuff had been collected from Xanatos, it seems to have magically disappeared from the evidence locker at the precinct house."

"What?"

Elisa nodded,

"Apparently, no one saw a thing either. And the surveillance tapes have gone missing too…"

Talon cocked his head,"Didn't Xanatos have some kind of surveillance from that night?"  
Elisa shrugged

"Apparently the assassin took out his surveillance security systems before he made his move that night…or so he says."

Talon growled in agreement,

"You never can tell with him, can you?"

Elisa nodded.

"Anyway, buy you a cup of coffee?" Talon said, motioning towards the tunnel that led to the kitchen.

"Yeah, little brother sounds good."

The siblings headed towards the kitchen.

This was ridiculous. Not only had the briefing not included any details about the sheer size of the community leaving in these tunnels, it had also not mentioned anything about the reptilian winged creatures that 47 was currently looking at. They seemed to be exact recreations of the group he'd faced previously, albeit somewhat larger, with more bone spurs, photo negative skin, and beady red eyes…in any case, they were disconcerting, to say the least.

'_So, that ramps the security forces up to about twelve. So long as there are no more surprises…'_

The killer looked up just in time to see the panther-like winged creature walk into the room, along with the detective he'd shoot it out with at the Xanatos building.

47 pulled the collars of the ratty army jacket he was wearing up around his face, and then pushed the old Yankees ball cap over his face.

This could be interesting.

"Of course, now that I think about it, there has been a spike in the unexplained deaths area since that night in the castle…in fact, it even started before that, I think." Elisa told her brother as they sat down at one of the long dining tables in the kitchen; they were a few tables away from the group of people Maggie had brought here, but Elisa still had to raise her voice to be heard over the crowd, who were clearly overjoyed to be eating a hot meal in a safe place.

"What do you mean?" Talon asked, as he blew on the steaming cup of coffee in front of him in a vain attempt to cool it down.

"Sevarious."

Talon stared darkly at his cup.  
"Really?"

"No forensics evidence, no murder weapon…professional job."

Talon shrugged.

"I guess."

"He was strangled to death with some kind of garrote, and if you run down his list of enemies, that doesn't fit any of them."

"How so?" Talon asked.

If Elisa though anything of the shortness of her brothers answers, she didn't show it.

"Lets see…If it had been say…Demona, she would have used a laser rifle or a mace…or her bare hands. Very messy. If it had been Thailog, same thing, if it had been Xanatos, Sevarious would have just disappeared, and…"

Elisa broke off her speculation when she that her brother was holding his head in his hands and was staring straight down at the table.

"Derek, what…"

"He was our last hope, Elisa."

"What?"

"For us to be normal…to be changed back…for my son to…"

Elisa's eye' widened,

"I'm sorry Derek, I hadn't thought about…"

Talon looked up at his sister, and blinked away a the tears that been forming in his eyes,

"It's okay Elisa…" Talon looked beyond his sister, and saw a child walk into the dining hall; he had wings, a tail, and feature looked like a cross between a lion and panther, along with a rich, light brown pelt. He surveyed the dining hall than made a beeline for a homeless man who was sitting apart form the others.

"It's okay." Talon repeated, as he suddenly became worried about what kind of trouble his son was about to get into.

47 looked up from the bowl of soup he had been absentmindedly spooning up while he thought of the best way to slip out of the room and complete his assignment when he felt someone sit down across the table from him.

"Hello." the newcomer happily announced. 47 slowly looked up from under his ball cap, and was surprised to find a child version of the furry winged creatures sitting across from him and holding out a taloned hand. 47 considered what to do for a moment looked past the child and saw that a good half of the people in the room, including all the winged creatures of both stripes, were looking at him expectantly. The assassin reached a hand out and shook the child's.

"Hi."

"My name is Michael, what's yours?"

"Metzger. Thomas Metzger."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Metzger!"

47 tried to think of a more awkward time in his life, and came up dry. The two sat in silence for awhile, until finally the boy blurted; "Your not a good person are you, Mr. Metzger?" 47 looked up sharply, scanned the room and saw that no one seemed to have heard. He glowered at the child, but when that seemed to have no affect on the child, he decided he would have to answer. "No." he answered, truthfully; not for any other reason than that he couldn't think of a convincing lie.

"You do bad things, right?"

'_God DAMN this inquisitive child.'_

"Yes." 47 answered after a moments thought.

"To people?"

'_I could kill him, but then the whole room would be on me.'_

"Yes. They tend to deserve it though."

"Cool!" The boy said, somehow awed by the statement, "Are you like my dad?"

"What?"

"He beats up bad guys. He says it's not right because he not a policeman anymore, but he says it's ok because he's protecting people."

47 cocked his head; '_Are all children this pointlessly talkative?'_ it was really quite…endearing.

"No. Not like that." 47 leaned forward and whispered conspiratioanally, "I'm an _assassin_."

"Whoaaaa…like on TV?"

47 nodded, "But keep it a secret, alright?"

"Are you sure? I really think I should tell dad…"

47 briefly considered this result of his unexpected candor than thought of a solution, "Can you keep it a secret for a day, at least?"

Michael considered for a moment, "Ok…as long as I don't get in trouble."

"Deal."

The two sat in silence for awhile, than Michael blurted, "I bet you're here to get Uncle Fang aren't you?"

"'Uncle Fang'?"

Michael nodded, "He's a bad person. He like's to brag about how bad a criminal he used to be…"

'_You really do have to love children.'_ "Oh really? I think actually might be here to see him."

"Cool, I guessed right! Do I get anything?"

47 shrugged, "We'll see. If you keep the secret until tomorrow, I think something could be arranged…and you have to tell me where to find your Uncle Fang"

Michael grinned, "He's in the cell block. It's down the corridor, than down the first tunnel on your left." 47 smiled.

"Hey! Mike! Leave the nice man alone and go get some dinner, ok?" the black furred winged creature shouted from across the room.

"Ok Dad!" Michael turned to 47 and winked, "Don't worry, I'll keep the secret."

47 hesitated for a moment,

"And Michael?"  
"Yeah Mr. Metzger?"

"Remember that keeping secrets because strangers tell you to isn't always a good idea; even if they promise you things, alright?"

"I know, Mr. Metzger…but I could tell you weren't an all bad person before I came over here." 47 stared strangely after the boy.

'_Kids…they seem to have the strangest notions.'_

47 waited until the group began to filter out of the dining hall to take his leave, than he followed the boy's directions to the cell block. He was surprised to find another of the reptilian winged creatures on guard there. A dark skinned female with white hair dressed in a very tight leotard and red jacket sat in a chair in front of the pair of cells, reading a book and doing her best to avoid the stream of lewd comments that were spewing forth from one the darkened cells. 47 smiled; he recognized his targets voice from an audio clip. The killer pulled an anesthetic syringe form under his jacket and slunk forward with the drug poised in his hand. He moved quickly to clap a hand over the female's mouth, then slammed the needle into her neck and gave her a dose of very potent tranquilizer. She struggled fiercely for a few moments, then went slack.

Forty seven gently laid her on the ground, then dropped the used syringe into pocket on his worn out army jacket.

"Hey man! Let me out!"

47 turned to see a brown furred mutate looking expectantly back at him from a cell that was surrounded by an shimmering energy field, _'Well that complicates things a bit…'_ 47 though as he looked around for a way to open the cell.

"C'mon, man, let me out of here…hey if you want to have some alone time with Blondie out there, it's all good, just let me out before you have your fun, ok?" 47 looked at the creature with barely concealed disgust.

"And how, exactly, do I let you out?"

"Over there, man! Blue button!"

47 turned, saw a small control panel on the wall, and walked over to it. The blue button was labeled 'Release'; right next to it was an orange button that said 'Energy Field Power'. He hit the orange button,

"What? No, it's the blue button, man!"

Forty seven walked over a slid open a large slot on the front of the cell that seemed to be used to pass food and trash in and out of the cell.

"I have a message for you, Mr. Alvarro."

Fang sat bolt upright as he heard his old last name,

"W-w-what?"

"Tony Dracon wants you to know that no one rats him out and lives." 47 pulled his Silverballer, dropped to one knee so he could aim through the slot, brought the pistol up, and squeezed off two quick round into the mutates head before Claw could answer.

47 stood, verified that the winged creature's brains were splattered all over the cell's back wall, and holstered the Silverballer under his jacket again. He shook his head as he turned to walk away. He hated it when the client asked for a message to be delivered; it made him fell like a melodramatic ass.


	4. Pancakes and Plot Thickening

As always, I don't own Eidos or Disney, so I have absolutely no right to be using the characters from Hitman or Gargoyles in this story.

Seriously.

They should probably try and charge me with something.

Authors note-I based many of 47's "daily routine" activities on those he performs in Williams C. Dietz' book _Hitman: Enemy Within_. This is a truly excellent novel, and I highly recommend it, even if you are not a fan of the Hitman series.

_Somewhere under the streets of Manhattan-_

47 pierced the darkness that shrouded the abandoned subway tunnel with a small LED flashlight as he searched for any tell tale sign that the old station he was using as a supply cache and base of operations had been disturbed. Even after the various tell tales he had left behind proved to be intact, the bald assassin pulled a suppressed Silverballer from under the ragged army jacket he was wearing and moved to a large power switch on the wall, flipped it on, shielded his eyes and darted away.

He swept the station with the handgun, and when no armed assailants leapt out to confront him, he relaxed slightly, eased down the hammer on the pistol and re-holstered it.

The clone killer walked over to a small workbench on the dusty platform, pulled out a large trash bag from a bottom drawer, and began to drop the homeless disguise he'd used to infiltrate the Labyrinth into it.

Five minutes later, the assassin had the disguise bagged up and had just removed his trademark black suit, white shirt and red tie from a garment bag that was hanging near the workbench.

After pulling on his "street" clothes, the killer pulled out another Silverballer from a heavy metal case that he kept concealed in a hollowed out space behind the stations long abandoned ticket booth twin. He placed the weapons in the shoulder holsters he wore under his suit jacket, and then took a small gun cleaning kit from the workbench, dropped it into one if his jacket pockets, shut off the power, climbed the stair way out of the station and into the world above, and slipped out onto the street.

_The Labyrinth-_

Pandemonium might have been too strong a word, but it would be hard to find a better word to describe to describe the underground sanctuary after Talon found Delilah out cold in front of a cell that had recently been redecorated with the contents of Fangs head.

The panther mutate surveyed the spattered back wall of the cell while his sister and Malibu tried to revive Delilah.

Elisa shone a small pocket flashlight in her half-clone's eyes, and then nodded.

"Drugged…but alive." Elisa proclaimed, tucking the flashlight back into her pocket.

"She'll be okay?" Malibu asked, in his not-quite Brooklyn voice.

"She'll be fine, Mal." Elisa looked over at the crumpled body of Fang, "I wish I could say the same for him though."

Malibu shrugged, "Small loss," he muttered, remembering all the abuse the bastard had heaped on him and his brothers and sister when they first came to Labyrinth. He had only stopped when the clones had gained enough cognitive functions to return his fire…with a vengeance.

Privately, Elisa agreed with the photo negative clone of Brooklyn; she doubted she could say as much until she figured out exactly what her mercurial brother's feelings on Fangs death were.

She left Delilah in Malibu's care and walked into the cell and stood with her sibling.

She looked at the bloodstains on the walls, looked at her brother, and then blurted.

"I'm thinking two rabbits boning each other."

Talon snapped out of his thoughts, "What?"

Elisa reddened with embarrassment and looked at the floor, "Sorry, bro. Cop humor."

"No I mean wha…" Talon looked a little closer at the blood on the walls, "Oh. I get it. That's just a little bit sick, Elisa."

Elisa shrugged, "Force of habit…now seriously, how are you feeling about this?"

Talon sighed, "I don't know, honestly. It's…Fang wasn't what you would call good company I suppose. But still, he didn't deserve _this_," Derek pointed at the gaping hole in the back of the dead mutates head, "I still don't understand why someone would break in here just to kill _him_, anyway."

Elisa was thankful that was all that had happened; things would have gone worse if the remnants of the Quarrymen had snuck an assassin in here.

Someone rapped on the cell bars, and the siblings turned to see Maggie standing there, trying very hard not to look at either Fangs body or the splattered gore.

"We searched the whole Labyrinth," she reported. "Whoever did this must have snuck in here with the last group of residents we took in…but they're gone now."

Talon sighed, "I thought that would be the case, but we had to try."

Maggie nodded, "Maybe…maybe this is for the best. We could never have let Fang out, not with how dangerous he could be. At least this way he doesn't have to…live the rest of his life in that cage."

Talon nodded, "I think your right, Mags, but still…"

"What the hell is _this_?" Malibu suddenly demanded.

The two mutates and Elisa turned to look at the clone; he was carefully studying a mark on Delilah's neck that was oozing a small rivulet of blood.

Elisa's eyes narrowed as she walked over to the two clones and crouched to examine the mark.

"That," she said, "is a puncture wound."

"Well I guess that confirms she was drugged," Talon said from inside the cell.

"It confirms more than that, Derek."

"What do you mean?" Talon asked, as he emerged from the cell to crouch next to his sister.

"This is the same type of needle mark that the assassin left in Angela's neck. Same wound placement too; right into the artery."

"How can you tell?" Maggie asked, "It could just be the same needle and technique…"

Elisa closed her eyes, and had the vivid memory of rounding a corner to see a stranger ramming a needle into her daughter in-laws neck. She remembered aiming her weapon and shouting as the assassin darted away when he saw her gun; remembered dashing to Angela's side as she fell to the floor, remembered desperately checking for a pulse, remembered the relief she felt when she found one…

"Trust me Maggie. That's not something I'm ever going to forget."

"Forget what?" Someone asked, her voice a mirror of Elisa's own.

"Delilah!" Malibu joyfully shouted as the clone's eyes fluttered open.

"Hello Malibu…is it morning already?" she asked groggily.

"Not quite," Talon said as he smiled down at his friend, "We had a little trouble earlier…"

"What? I don't remember anything like that…" Delilah's voice was regaining lucidity.

"You were drugged, sweetheart," Elisa said, "Nothing happened to you while you were out," she quickly pointed out, noticing the look of panic on the clones face.

"Who? Was it…was it…_him_?"

Elisa reached down and squeezed Delilah's hand, "No it wasn't him."

"Just some assassin who was after Fang," Malibu said, doing his best to reassure his mate.

"Oh. Oh!" Delilah looked concerned, and tried to sit up and look at Fangs cell. She was stopped when Elisa set a restraining hand on her chest.

"It really isn't something you'd want to see, Delilah."

The clone's eyes widened, "What happened?"

"The killer drugged you, and then disabled the power to the force field around Fangs cell…" Talon explained, "Then…he murdered him. Fang's dead."

"Small loss," Delilah murmured, and then said aloud "I don't know what happened, one minute I was reading my book…the next I was on the floor with you guys around me."

After a moments silence she looked up at Talon with a look on her face that said reality had caught up with her, "I'm sorry, leader. I failed."

"No you didn't; not anymore than the rest of us. We're the one's who let this killer in after all."

While her brother reassured Delilah, Elisa glanced at her watch and saw how close to dawn it was.

"Uh, guys, you going to be okay here?" she sheepishly asked, "I want to try and get back home in time to tell the guys what's happened, if I can."

Talon nodded, "We've done all we can Elisa."

Elisa looked at Delilah, "I'll be fine, Elisa. You need to get back to the castle and inform Goliath's clan of this."

"Thanks, guys." Elisa said as she stood up, "I'll check back with you all later." she quickly made her way down the tunnel towards the main hall, and from there to the exit that led to her Fairlane.

_Chase Park Plaza Hotel, Manhattan-_

After ditching the trash bag containing the homeless disguise he'd used to infiltrate the Labyrinth in the trash cans in an alley behind a McDonalds, 47 walked back towards his hotel checking behind himself on occasion for any sign of a tail. He found none, and was shortly at the entrance of his hotel.

The killer clone looked left and right in the luxuriously appointed, dark wood paneled lobby, carefully checking for anything that seemed out of place. Finding none, 47 walked over to the reception desk.

"Are there any messages for room 407?"

The receptionist typed a few rapid commands into her keyboard, "Yes sir, it seems room 407 has several messages…if you would just show me your room key I can give them to you right away."

47 produced the plastic swipe card for his hotel room, and the receptionist gave him two small envelopes.

The assassin nodded his thanks and made a beeline for the elevator bank in the back of the lobby, still sweeping for any sign of a tail. Finding none, he stepped into the first available elevator and used a knuckle to punch the button for his floor

_Castle Wyvern, Manhattan-_

"How did your patrols go tonight, my daughter?" Goliath asked Angela as she alighted on the battlements with Broadway,

"The usual, I suppose…rapists, muggers and armed robbers."

Goliath shook his head, "The same for the rest of the clan. It's almost become routine."

Broadway chuckled, "I can handle _routine_. Routine doesn't seem to involve magic, monsters, laser rifles…" he glanced at the three round abrasions that dotted his chest, "Or bald assassins with handguns."

"Well, I'm glad you can take it so lightly," Angela scolded; she shuddered as she remembered watching the doctors in the infirmary fight to keep her mate alive until dawn. He had made it, obviously, but even after two straight days of stone sleep he bore the scars of his encounter with the assassin's .45 caliber pistol.

The big blue gargoyle smiled, "Anything you can walk away from, right?"

Angela rolled her eyes, "I suppose that's easy for you to say."

"What's easy to say?"

The three gargoyles turned to find Elisa emerging unto the battlement from a nearby tower.

"Nothing much, Elisa…it's just that my mate likes to trivialize life threatening wounds just to goad me," Angela wryly answered.

"What? I did not!" Broadway protested.

Goliath chuckled, and then got a better look at Elisa's face. "What's wrong?" he demanded, with enough alarm to snap Broadway and Angela out of their mock argument.

"Fangs dead," Elisa said, getting straight to the point, "Someone snuck into the Labyrinth and shot him."

"What?" Goliath nearly shouted, "But why would someone wish too kill…him?"  
"Not sure…"

"Was anyone else hurt?" Angela quickly asked.

"No…well, Delilah was drugged by the killer so he could get to Fang, but she was doing fine when I left to tell you guys what happened."

Angela breathed a sigh of relief, "At least there's that much to be thankful for."

"I suppose. But I have something else you guys need to know."

"What's that, my Day Angel?" Goliath cautiously asked.

"The assassin who killed fang was the same one who broke in here awhile back."

"Are you kidding?" Broadway asked, then paused and rubbed his chin; doing his best detective imitation as he mulled something over. "Do you think an assassin is trying to take out gargoyles in New York?" he finally asked.

"No," Elisa answered flatly. "Good theory, Broadway, but I'm pretty sure what we're dealing with is a group of highly trained killers, who happens to have had two hits that involved gargoyles or mutates. In fact, judging from what Goliath's told me, a clan of gargoyles was the last thing this killer was expecting when he came in here to take a shot at Xanatos."

Broadway looked disappointed, but didn't argue.

"How many other killings do you think he's responsible for?" Goliath asked.

"Not sure. Homicide isn't my department, normally, so I don't keep track of high profile killing's…although I can guess that one man on the list is Anton Sevarious."

"_Sevarious_?" Goliath demanded. "But I thought the police decided that was a robbery after they discovered his research was missing?"

"So they say…but the kill was too clean, too in line with what we've seen both here and at the Labyrinth for them to not be related somehow."

Elisa shook her head, "In the end, I suppose there's not much we can do about right now."

The three gargoyles nodded in agreement with their human clan mate

"At the very least, not until tomorrow. Dawn is approaching," Goliath said, pointing to the first glimmers of light on the horizon. "You two go take your places; I will join you in a moment."

Elisa and Goliath watched as the two gargoyles walked off, resuming their playful squabbling as they headed for the tower the clan slumbered on during the day.

"It is nice to see my daughter so happy," Goliath mused.

"Yeah," Elisa shortly agreed.

Goliath sent her a questioning look, "It's just…sometimes it still bothers me…" Elisa looked at the ground.

"I…I am sorry my Elisa," Goliath whispered, knowing just what had put his mate in her sudden melancholy.

"It's not you fault Big Guy…it's not anyone's fault. We are who we are."

"We are who we are," Goliath repeated the mantra; and hated every word of it, "I…will see you tomorrow night, Elisa," and he headed off to the tower before Elisa could see the look of anguish on his face.

Behind the lavender behemoth Elisa shook her head as if to clear it; desperate for something to keep her mind occupied, she began to wonder what the mysterious assassin, who had twice entered her life on a tide of blood and bullets was doing…

_Chase Park Plaza Hotel, Manhattan-_

47 toweled off as he stepped out of the shower, than wiped the condensation off the Silverballer he had brought with him into the bathroom (the killer always remained cognizant of the large numbers of targets he had picked off in bathrooms, hence the slight paranoia). After brushing his teeth, he padded back into his hotel room and checked the time on the digital alarm next to the bed.

After deciding it was too early for breakfast, the killer yanked the blankets and pillows off the beds and made a pallet on the floor, his normal resting place, because the first thing someone out to kill him was likely to do after breaking down the door was put a few bullets in the bed. Sleeping on the floor bought a few seconds to react, but those few seconds had saved 47's life on more than one occasion.

After placing both the Silverballer's in easy reach, 47 lay down on his improvised bed, and after a few moments, he drifted off to sleep.

Six hours later, the mechanical bleating of his alarm clock awoke the killer from a dreamless sleep. He made a quick visual survey of the hotel room, and after finding nothing out of place, he got to his feet and walked over to the closet with one of the Silverballers in hand. He threw the door open and stepped back, raising the pistol as he did so. After finding no threats on the other side, he turned to the bathroom and repeated the process. Again, the killer clone found no man (or woman) with a gun lying in wait.

After clearing the room, the assassin ran through his morning fitness routine, which was remarkable only in that his repetitions ran into the hundreds instead of the normal dozens normally performed by all but the most demanding fitness buffs.

After his exercises 47 stepped inside the bathroom, showered and shaved, then stepped back into the main room and headed for the small stainless steel suitcase next to the bed. After grabbing a fresh shirt and underclothes out of it, he closed it and set the keypad lock.

The killer pulled on his fresh clothes, then dropped his double shoulder holster rig over his shoulders before putting on his suit and tie.

He grabbed his cellular phone, wallet, gravity lock folding knife, and his ubiquitous fiber wire off the massive oak entertainment center that sat opposite the bed. After dropping the items in the various pockets of his suit, he grabbed the still unopened letters the desk clerk had given him the night before and a small leather case containing his PDA off the small desk that sat over by the hotel room's windows. He then walked over to the door, peered through the peephole for a moment, and cautiously slid it open.

After carefully looking up and down the hallway for a few moments, 47 walked down to the elevator, thought better of it, and walked over to the stairs; he was only on the fourth floor and a little more exercise before breakfast would do him good.

A few minutes later, 47 walked through the lobby, nodded to the sleepy looking doorman when he opened one of the big brass doors to let the assassin out onto the street, and turned left. After walking for a block, the killer made a random left, then a right, then another left, each at a different block, stopping occasionally to look in the mirror of a parked car or peer into the reflection in a store window. After he was reasonably sure he wasn't being tailed, he looked around in the hopes of finding a restaurant that was serving breakfast despite the fact that it was well after noon.

After walking for a few more blocks, 47 succeeded in finding a corner diner that had a sign in the window proclaiming "Breakfast Served All Day!"

Without bothering to check the eateries interior through the plate glass windows that wrapped around it, the assassin opened the front door and stepped inside…and found that half the tables, booths, and most of the stools at the long lunch counter that lined the back wall were crammed with men and women in blue New York City Police Department uniforms.

47 stopped dead in his tracks, and was preparing to beat a hasty retreat when an elderly woman in a bright pink waitress uniform grabbed a menu from a small stand near the door and approached him.

"Afternoon, sweetie. What can I do ya for? Table, booth or counter?" she asked, with an expectant look on her face.

47 did his best not to look annoyed; if he ducked out now, the entire roomful of cops would likely take notice of his snubbing of the waitress at what seemed to be plainly a favorite hang out of theirs', and notice by police officers was something 47 studiously avoided…so there was nothing for it but to take the plunge and hope nothing came of it.

"A booth would be nice. The one in the back corner would do just fine…" the assassin proclaimed, happy to see that at least his preferred seat (near the entrance to the kitchen, and therefore, near the back door) was open.

The waitress nodded and led 47 to the booth he'd indicated, and dropped the menu on it,

"You wanna hear the lunch specials, Sweetie?" she asked, after 47 slid onto one of the Naugahyde benches that lined the booth.  
"No thank you…I'm actually here for breakfast."

"Well then…I'd recommend the pancakes, best in the whole city!"

47 nodded, "Sounds wonderful…as long as they can come with a side of bacon, two scrambled eggs, and a cup of coffee," he said, doing his best to sound cheerful and handing the waitress back the menu.

"I think we might be able to swing that sweetheart," the waitress said, after taking 47's menu and scribbling down his order, "I'll be right back with your coffee…you want a paper or anything?" she asked.

47 nodded politely, "Yes, thank you."

The waitress left and returned a few minutes later with a steaming porcelain mug and a folded copy of the day's _New York Times_.

As 47 tamed the steaming hot mug of coffee with cream and sugar, he folded open the paper and was just beginning to think that eating in the police filled restaurant wasn't that big of a risk after all when the front door opened, and in stepped something that shot 47's new found relaxation full of very large and irreparable holes.

"Detective Maza! Good to see you!" the waitress said as the raven haired detective walked into the diner, with her trench coat wearing partner in tow, "And Detective Bluestone! It's been too long since you came to see us…"

"Sorry Rita," Bluestone said his face a mask of contriteness.

Elisa rolled her eyes, "Give us a booth, if you can spare one…" she said as Rita grabbed a par of menus.

"Sure thing Elisa," she said, and led the two detectives to a booth near the back, flanked on one side by a group of Dutch tourists and on the other by a man in a suit who seemed to be completely engrossed in a copy of the _New York Times_ which he was holding spread in front of him at eye level.

"This one work for you, detectives?" the waitress asked.

"_Please say no…"_ 47 forlornly hoped from behind his paper.

"Yeah this'll work fine, thanks Rita."

"_Dammit!"_

The assassin risked a quick glance from behind his paper, and was relieved to see that the woman in the red jacket was sitting with her back to him. He relaxed a little and brought the hand he had been resting on the grip of one of his Silverballer's out from under his suit jacket.

"So tell me more about this assassin, partner," Matt said after he and Elisa settled into their booth.

Elisa rolled her eyes, "Can't we talk about something else? I'm sick of spending every waking hour of my life talking about gargoyles, mutates, criminals or conspiracy theories."

Matt shrugged, "I guess so. But it's not like we ever have much else to talk about. If it's not gargoyles one week, it's a group of cybernetic mercenaries or something…"

Matt stopped talking as the waitress returned with twos mugs of coffee in her hands, which she set down on top of the table before asking;

"So what will it be today? The usual?"

"Yeah Rita, that'd be great," Elisa answered, before taking a cautious tip from her piping hot cup of coffee.

"Ok then…two bacon cheeseburgers with fries coming right up," the waitress walked off to put Elisa and Matt's orders in with the cooks, while the two detectives resumed their conversation.

"Anyway Elisa, I'm just trying to find out more about our new player…"

Elisa glared at her partner from across the Formica table, "I'm serious Matt. I just spent the whole of last night dealing with this crap. I need a break, ok?"

"Alright, fine. Sorry."

The two sat in silence for a moment, and then Elisa asked, "Why you so interested anyway?"

Matt took another sip of coffee, "I dunno…just curious I guess."

"Curious? Matt you've asked me about this guy six times since he attacked the castle. You're never _that_ curious about anything that doesn't involve UFO's."

Matt glanced out the diners' front window for a moment, "I've heard stories from a few people."

"Ahhh…and now we get down to it," Elisa said, realizing that Matt had come up with one of his conspiracy theories.

"Hardee-har Elisa. Just hear me out. Ok?"

Elisa nodded.

"Anyway, these people have heard rumors of an international contract killing organization…they're supposedly called "The Agency". I've heard rumors that they're responsible for over a thousand deaths across the globe. I've even heard stories that the Agency's top hit-man is some kind of genetically engineered clone…"

"A clone?" Elisa asked, as Anton Sevarious' death flashed in her mind.

Matt nodded, "Those are the stories anyway. No way to prove anything; yet."

Elisa shrugged, "I don't know Matt…but honestly, I'm ready to believe anything at this point in my life."

Matt snorted in amusement.

Elisa took another sip of her coffee, watched as Rita the waitress walked by carrying a plate of pancakes, bacon, and eggs, then set her mug down and turned to Matt.

"I need to go use the little girl's room; I'll be right back, ok?"

"Huh?" Matt had obviously checked out into space out mode for a few seconds, "Oh yeah, sure."

Elisa slipped out of the booth, stood, and turned to head to the bathrooms.

It so happened that the exact moment that Elisa turned around was the same moment when Agent 47 had just set his paper down to let the waitress put the plate with his breakfast on it down on the table. The assassin froze in place; time seemed to slow down, and the assassin's wintry blue eyes slowly rose to lock with Elisa's hazel irises.

It took only that split second for Elisa to recognize the assassin.

She immediately darted a hand under her jacket for her sidearm while shouting,

"Freeze! You're under arrest!"

47 sprung into action, darting out of his booth and pushing the waitress into the red jacketed detective before slamming open the folding doors to the kitchen and running inside. One of the aproned cooks voiced a protest to the killer's intrusion, but the assassin quickly dashed out of an open door in the back of the kitchen, and found himself in an alley that ran behind the block the diner sat in. He slammed the diner's back door shut behind him, looked around the alley and spotted a nearby dumpster, which he shoved in front of the door before running down the alley and away from the diner.

Back inside, Elisa had disentangled herself from Rita and, without bothering to explain herself to the roomful of cops, dashed after 47, running into the kitchen, where the cooks pointed at the diners back door; she dashed over to it, tried to open it, met resistance, then stepped back and landed a full force kick to its center, which succeeded in forcing it open just enough for her to squeeze through. She looked both ways down the alley, spotted 47 running towards the street, and managed to force the door open even further, allowing her to get out into the alley and give chase to 47, when she heard Matt call from behind her;

"Elisa what's…?"

"The assassin! That's him!" Elisa shouted, as she turned to see her partner squeeze out through the door and follow her into the alley; behind him were a few uniformed cops. Matt turned to them and said that they were after a dangerous murder suspect before running to catch up with Elisa, who had kept after the killer clone.

47 had dashed out into the street, weaving through traffic as he went, before darting down a small side street; he glanced behind and saw the red jacketed detective hot on his trail, with her partner and a gaggle of police not far behind.

The assassin cursed and darted down another alley, then swore again when he spotted a chain link fence half way down it. Thinking quickly, he hopped onto a nearby dumpster, leapt onto the hanging ladder of a fire escape, scrambled up it, ran up a several flights of metal stairs until he got to a second story entrance, then got a running start and leapt off it into space. The assassin cleared the fence with a few feet to spare; hitting the ground and rolling before getting up and continuing his dash for freedom.

Behind him, Elisa didn't hesitate to follow the assassin's route over the fence; after her leap of faith she landed flat on her butt, but she scrambled to her feet and kept after the assassin. Behind her, the uniformed cops stopped to stare in amazement, while Bluestone did hid best to quickly climb over the chain link fence, but his coat got hung up on the barbed twists that lined the top; it ripped right down the middle, and deposited him none too gently on the asphalt below, face first. He staggered to his feet, doing his best to ignore the pain that began to shoot from what seemed to be a very broken nose, and limped after Elisa.

Meanwhile, 47 had reached the end of the alley and was confronted by a street of crowded pedestrians and typical bumper to bumper New York City traffic. He hopped onto the hood of a nearby car before he leapt to the roof of a cab.

As 47 leapt form car to car to get across the street, Elisa came out of the alley behind him. She quickly spotted the car hopping killer, drew her weapon, pointed it, and shouted;

"Freeze! Stop or I'll shoot!"

47 ignored her, jumped clear of the last car and onto the sidewalk across the street. He quickly ducked down so that the packed group of cars was between him and the detective, then pulled one of his Silverballers out its holster and flicked off the safety.

"We have you surrounded!" Elisa shouted, as he kept her weapon trained at the last spot she had seen the killer, "Drop your weapons and come out with you hands above your hea…"

47 pointed his pistol in the air and fired three rounds; this set the crowd of bystanders that had lined both sides of the street into a panic; they ran, screamed, shouted, cowered or hid, according to their nature, all of which meant that a writhing sea of humanity quickly fouled whatever shot that Elisa had had on 47.

"Goddammit!" she shouted, as she tried to find 47 again through the panicked mob.

Matt caught up with her then, and she did a double take when she saw his bloodied face and swollen nose,

"Where is he?" he asked, before she could inquire what the hell happened to him.

"No idea…" she looked down the street and saw a subway station.

"C'mon!" she said, pointing to the underground and shoving her way through the crowd towards it. Matt followed, and the two managed too forge their way through the crowd and into the station.

They were just in time to see a train pulling out of the station and disappear into the dark tunnel beyond.

In the last car of that train, 47 sat down heavily on a seat and exhaled in relief. That was that closest call he'd had in years. He had, of course, thought of ambushing his pursuers at some point in the chase, but had decided that five or six dead police officers would not exactly have done him any favors with the Agency, or with not ending up on a poster with "Ten Most Wanted" across the top. He shook his head in frustration. It was a million-more than a million-to one shot that he would have ever run into that troublesome policewoman ever again, and he had managed to do it at one of the worst possible moments he could think of.

Shaking his head in amazement, 47 got off the subway at the next exit, left the station moments before a group of police swarmed into it from the street, and made his way into the anonymous crowds of New York.

Back at the street where they had lost the bald assassin, Elisa cursed as foully as she could and hung up her cell phone.

"They lost him! The morons showed up two minutes after the train pulled into the station!" She shouted at Matt, who was sitting in the back of an ambulance while paramedics checked his wounds.

Matt shook his head, "Well that's too bad, but we need to ow!!" Matt cried out in pain as the medic pressed slightly on his nose.

"Sorry detective," he apologized, before continuing on with his examination.

"Anyway, we need to focus on something else right now…"

"And what's that?" Elisa asked her partner.

"Who was he in that diner to kill?"

"What do you mean?"

Matt took a breath, "I mean…he's been in two places with _you_," he paused, "Elisa, I think…I think you're one of his targets."

"What?"

"Think about it! He missed you at Wyvern…and now he's back to finish his contract."

Elisa looked dubiously at her partner, "Matt."

"Yes Elisa?"

"Who in the hell could I have pissed off enough for them to send a_ highly trained, professional _assassin _after me_?"

Matt opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

"Well…" he finally said, "Maybe the Quarrymen…or Dracon…"

Elisa crossed her over her chest and laughed, "Dracon? Tony's a scumbag, but he's not dumb enough to even _hire_ someone to kill me; if he did, every cop in this city would think he was behind it and come gunning for him. And the Quarrymen? They've been in shambles ever since DHS took them down and tossed Castaway into Gitmo."

"Ok Elisa, how do you explain the fact that you've had o brushed with the same contract killer in two days?"

Elisa shrugged, "There still is such thing as coincidence, Matt."

"Maybe…" Matt didn't sound convinced.

_Central Park, Manhattan-_

It was late afternoon when 47 strolled into the park and sat down on a bench.

After grabbing a bite to eat (finally) at a small Mediterranean bistro not far from the park, he walked over to the large expanse of green, intending to review the two data packs he had received from Diana on his PDA while catching some reasonably fresh air in a place that didn't echo with the relentless roar of daily life in New York City. He found a bench on a disused trail, sat down, flipped open the small PDA and inserted the memory stick containing the first message from Diana into it. Before hitting the "play" button, he attached a pair of headphones to the PDA and put them on. He clicked the play message button, and Diana's smooth voice began to speak.

"Compliments on a job well done, 47. The underground job seems to have gone off without a hitch. Unfortunately, we're having trouble effecting payment."

47 frowned; this was the first time that had happened…

"Just like the last time we had this problem, it's a mere wire transfer issue, and it should be solved quickly."

47's frown deepened; what the hell was she talking about? 47 thought back on his long career with Agency. He really had never received a late payment before, wire transfer problems or otherwise. So unless Diana had completely lost it, which he thought to be very near to impossible, something wasn't right…but what was it?

"But Agency would appreciate it if you took on this next assignment on good faith; the briefing is in the other envelope…"

Now 47 knew something was definitely wrong. The Agency was a business, and it would _never_ send an agent out on a job before effecting payment. If it did so it would quickly find itself running short of operatives.

47 quickly pulled out the next memory stick and slipped it into PDA. In a few moments, Diana's voice again flooded his ears.

"47, the next assignment is the CEO of a local corporation…apparently, the local business community can't solve any of they're problems without your assistance!"

47 blinked hard; that was the first time he'd ever heard Diana tell a joke. A bad one, at that. Something was _definitely_ wrong.

"Your next target is priority one..."

_And just what the _hell _does that mean?_ 47 wondered as he heard the unfamiliar code phrase.

"Ignore all other assignments and options and focus solely on this for the time being."

47 stopped the briefing as he tried to unravel Diana's cryptic phrasing.

It only took him a moment.

Diana was telling him that something was wrong, but for the time being he had to focus on this assignment, and try to sort things out later. And the only reason 47 could think of for the coding…Diana had been captured and was being forced to send him false assignments. But who would do that? And why hadn't he been contacted by someone else from the Agency to explain the situation?

Right now, he had far more questions than answers, and the only way it seemed he could grab some breathing room was to finish off this next target…the killer clone checked the dossier that was stored on the memory stick.

The sooner this…Dominique Destine person died, the sooner he could get on track to get some answers.

_Somewhere on Long Island-_

"Nice work, Girly," Tony Dracon gloated as 47's mission confirmation popped up on the computer screen. He turned and grinned at the woman who sat in front of the laptop.

She had dark hair and skin, which contrasted sharply with a pair of flashing green eyes; it was clear her background was mixed. Beneath the chic business suit she wore, her body was toned, lithe; she was into her middle age but looked twenty-two.

Diana glowered at her captor.

"If you call me 'Girly' one more time, Mr. Dracon. I'm going to slit your throat and pull your tongue out of the hole."

Dracon laughed, but his bespectacled lieutenant took offence to the Diana's tone.

"Hey! Don't you talk to the boss that way, bitch," he snarled, before running a hand across Diana's shoulders, "Or else we might find a use for you that you won't like…"

Diana sighed in exasperation, before grabbing the thugs hand off her shoulder and yanking him off his feet; she quickly broke his arm, then slammed his hand down on the desk top next to computer.

"Hands to your self, lackey," she stated matter-of-factly ignoring the thugs howls of pain, before grabbing a ball point and ramming it straight through Glasses' hand and into the desk, pinning it there.

Glasses screams reached a whole new pitch, and in the confines of the windowless room they were in, the screams were almost deafening.

Dracon kicked his lieutenant in the face to shut him up, than pulled a handgun from under his blazer,

"You're gonna pay for that!" he shouted.

"Put that away!" a deep voice commanded from the shadows near the room's door.

"But…"

"I said put it away, Dracon!" the voice repeated.

Sullenly, Dracon put the handgun back under his jacket.

A massive figure stepped into the small pool of light cast by the computer's screen; it was a massive gargoyle, dark skinned, white haired…and red eyed.

The gargoyle looked down at the limp, bloodied body of Glasses and laughed darkly. He ran a talon along Diana's jaw, "After this, I simply must move you into my…harem."

Diana smacked the gargoyles massive hand away.

"The pleasure, I'm sure, will be all mine," after succeeding in making the words sound like a very nasty threat instead of a come on, she stood and stalked out of the room.

Outside, a pair of Dracon's men began to follow her, while Thailog let loose with another gale of laughter.

"I love spirited women…they're so fun to break…"

"Speaking of _breaking_…" Dracon said, as he dislodged Glasses' hand from the desk, "What the hell is the point of getting rid of this Agent 47? I though the whole point of this was to use him to pick off enemies. If you send him in after the blue bitch he's gonna get wasted…"

"That's what I'm counting on. With him out of the way, the Agency will be powerless, and we can use Diana as leverage to get them to hand over control to _us_. And besides…47 would be a threat. And if there's one thing my ex-lover is good at, it's eliminating threats."

Thailog grinned, "My only regret is that I won't be able to see this fight in person."


End file.
